The Boss of Hampton Beach by Jed Power

Author:Jed Power
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, murder, action, cocaine, dark humor, hampton beach, jed power, dark jetty publishing
Publisher: Jed Power

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Chapter 21

Lieutenant Ray Conover leaned back against the metal railing that ran the length of the boardwalk across the street from the High Tide. He was holding the Boston Herald so the paper obscured most of his face. It was mid-afternoon and he'd been in the same place for hours, so he'd read everything in the Herald, including the ads, twice. He'd long ago stopped reading and switched to counting every life preserver, fake seagull, and lobster trap that decorated the front of the building.

Dan Marlowe was inside working while Conover stood watch outside on the off chance that the two men who'd tried to kidnap Dan on the beach came back to try again. It was probably a long shot, especially in broad daylight at a crowded restaurant, but it was the only lead Conover had on the harbor murders. Besides, he wanted another crack at those two punks. Especially the big one who'd taken pot shots at him. This time someone else would be kissing the pavement.

So far he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. A lot of customers coming and going and that was about it. He kept peeking over his paper and shifting from foot to foot, hoping the jerks he was interested in would show up again.

Suddenly a guy with a duck-billed cap–a guy he'd seen around the beach a couple of times before–stopped directly in front of Conover, obscuring his view of the High Tide. The man reached into the pocket of his lightweight coat and began scattering around some type of crumbs. Within seconds he'd attracted a few seagulls and a flock of pigeons.

"Hey, buddy. How about moving your little bird party to a better location," Conover said to the back of the man's head.

The birdman moved a few feet and took his friends with him, clearing Conover's line of sight. Conover tried to concentrate on the restaurant but found his gaze slowly sliding back to the fellow with the birds. They were crawling all over the guy now. On his arms, his shoulders, there was even one perched right on top of his head.

Conover forced himself to look back at the High Tide, expecting to see what he'd been seeing all afternoon–nothing. At least nothing worthwhile. This time, though, a thin, weaselly looking man, who seemed as out of place at the beach as an Eskimo, was at the side of the restaurant peering through the plate glass window. The man's hands shaded his eyes like a hat bill while he continued staring in the window for a couple of minutes. Suddenly, he scooted across the street to the opposite corner where he leaned against a building, keeping his face turned in the direction of the High Tide's front door.

Conover didn't recognize the weasel but he had a feeling about him. A feeling that made his stomach a bit queasy. He kept the newspaper high enough to hide his lower face and shifted his gaze from the restaurant to the thin guy on the corner and back again.

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